


Secret Garden

by icarus_chained



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blasphemy, Control, Desire, Fear, Hope, Innocence, Love, Lust, M/M, Seduction, Temptation, trysts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While infiltrating an angelic garrison, a post-GO Aziraphale and Crowley stumble across a forbidden tryst, and voice their own inimitable approval.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Decidedly blasphemous, I think. Maybe a little dark. Also, it may seem familiar to some people from LJ, for reasons which I will explain in the end notes?

It was hard not to feel like a thief, sneaking in around an angelic garrison like this. Crowley, naturally, didn't seem to mind, but it made Aziraphale rather nervous and more than a little guilty. No help for it, though. Not if they wanted to avoid meeting any garrison members, given their propensity for dropping by after the archangel, while they tried to ferret out some information. 

And they did. Want to avoid them. More than forty years of hiding and an uncertain future in this new world, at least so far, had a tendency to do that to you.

Though, having said all that ... there was a certain pleasure to be had, watching his demon slip fluidly through the shadows, serpentine and furtive, grinning a little from the game of it. The challenge, knocking over another angel's defenses (not actually _knocking_ them, of course, just ... slipping around them a little), sneaking around an archangel's house.

His demon was all too easily amused, sometimes. And far more of an adrenalin-junkie than his cautious demeanor would have you believe.

Unfortunately, while he was distracted with watching Crowley be easily amused, he wasn't exactly looking where he himself was going. That was the only possible excuse he could find for stumbling into that little ivy-covered door and falling through it. That was the only excuse he could offer for stumbling onto ...

Oh. Oh my. Well. Ahem.

The two angels kissing on the stone bench fell apart in utter panic as Aziraphale gingerly picked himself up off the stone flags, and tried to ignore his demon snickering behind him. Whether at Aziraphale himself, for falling over like a prat, or the two blushing innocents staring at them in panic, he wasn't quite sure. Either way, it was hardly called for. He elbowed Crowley smartly in the ribs to shut him up, and smiled apologetically. Hopefully, if he played nice, they could get out of this without anyone calling the alarm, or being too embarrassed ...

"I am sorry, my dears, my fault completely, we'll just get out of your way, never mind us ..."

"Absolutely," Crowley grinned, leering a little. "I can see you've far better things to be minding, after all ..."

The heavier of the two angels squeaked, face going from the pink of flushing embarrassment to the dead white of something close to terror, and his companion stepped quickly in front of him, scowling protectively at them. Aziraphale blinked, and looked at Crowley in confusion. His demon shrugged, no more enlightened than he was.

"Ah," Aziraphale asked, very gently. "Is everything ... all right? I mean, we haven't really upset you, or anything ...?" He couldn't really see _how_ , but then he'd never really walked in on _angels_ doing that before now. Perhaps they were a little more nervous about it than humans tended to be? 

"We weren't ... we didn't mean ... Look, it's not what you think," the pale angel pleaded, reaching around his friend to hold out his hands to them. "Please, don't tell ... Don't tell Michael or the others, we ..."

Aziraphale blinked some more, glancing over at the rather obvious demon standing beside him, and back at them, feeling his eyebrows beetling up a little. Even if Gabriel had decided not to kill them after the little Apocalypse incident, they were hardly in a position to go telling tales to his brother. If they were, they wouldn't be sneaking around the garrison.

"I don't think you have to worry there, kids," Crowley reassured, confused and mildly contemptuous, but rather gentle for it. Aziraphale hid a little smile. His demon was certainly training up nicely, wasn't he?

"No, don't worry, dears," he smiled, adding his own, rather more sincere reassurance. "Even if Michael was someone we spent a lot of time talking to ... well, what you do together is between you, and hardly any of his business. I don't see what we could possibly want by telling him of it."

Crowley rolled his eyes a little, his expression slipping a touch towards darkness. "I could," he muttered, watching as the so far silent angel turned his head a little to glare darkly at him, watching the hard edge of fire and grace in desperate eyes. The angel moved a little to better shield his companion. "I could," he whispered softly, as Aziraphale turned to look at him, and there was understanding in those golden eyes, and rich pity. "But even I'm not that much of a bastard, kids. Even I wouldn't do that to you. Trust me there."

They frowned at him, the heavier angel with sort of hopeful worry, the silent one in narrow-eyed consideration. "Then ..." the second angel said, slowly, carefully, "Then you don't ... have a problem with what we were doing?" Wary, almost disbelieving. Aziraphale felt himself frowning.

"Of course not," he said, shortly. Gently, as he snuck a little sideways glance at his demon and smiled, ever so faintly. "It would be ... rather hypocritical of me, my dears. Really rather hypocritical indeed ..." 

He trailed off, smiling, as Crowley arched a narrow eyebrow and grinned around his teeth, golden eyes sparkling in a little leer. Oh yes. So very hypocritical ...

"You?" the more fearful angel asked, staring between them in confusion. "You mean you ... the pair of you ...?"

"I don't know why you sound so surprised," Crowley grumbled defensively, shifting close and bumping his shoulder against Aziraphale's. Who smiled, and caught his demon's hand. "Haven't your lot been saying I seduced him from grace for something like the last half-century? Which isn't true, by the way. If there was anyone present doing any seducing ..."

"I thought you'd appreciate not having to do the work for a change," Aziraphale smiled, squeezing his hand and teasing gently with his thumb. "You always say temptation is such hard work ... I thought I'd do you a favour and let you be the temptee for once."

Crowley grinned a little, showing teeth. "And you didn't enjoy it _at all_ , did you, angel?" he purred. "You didn't half enjoy walking the edge of darkness ..."

"Not in the slightest," Aziraphale confirmed cheerfully, tilting his chin in challenge and sly delight. His demon laughed, leaning in close to nip for a second at his lips before pulling away, and Aziraphale hurriedly silenced the little wriggly thing in his chest that demanded he chase after him and get a proper kiss. Damned teasing demon ...

"Aziraphale," the quiet angel said, suddenly. Looking at him in shock, as if he honestly hadn't made the connection until now. "You're Aziraphale. And you," ... turning to Crowley ... "You're Crowley. You're ... You're the Serpent of Eden, and the angel he tempted ..."

Crowley smirked darkly, but shifted a little to better be able to run if he had to. "Yup," he grinned, hard and challenging. "So you see, can't you, why we're not exactly in a position to be telling other people's secrets? Why we're not a threat to you?"

They nodded, almost breathlessly, staring at Crowley. At the pair of them, really. Like they were something between celebrities and a deadly contagion, somewhere between fearful and fascinating.

Aziraphale was honestly never going to get used to that.

"Even if we were in a position to tell anyone," he said quietly, as much to break that stare as to reassure them. "Why would we? You're doing nothing wrong. Less so than we are, really, since neither of you is a demon."

"But that's ..." the rearmost angel said quickly, and then ducked his head, continuing more slowly and with much worrying of hands. "That's just it. Me and Zadkiel ... we're not ... we're not special like you. We didn't defy an apocalypse, or fall for a demon. We're not ... special. Not worthy of special permission. We're just ..."

"In love," Aziraphale finished, very, very gently. The angel flushed, and his companion, Zadkiel, tugged him close, hugged him against his chest.

"Yes," Zadkiel said quietly, meeting Aziraphale's gaze head on with quiet, trembling dignity. "And always will be, whether we are special or not. No matter what is whispered behind our backs because of it." The other angel flinched faintly, and Zadkiel tightened his grip. "I won't abandon you for that, Arariel," he murmured gently, rubbing a hand up and down his companion's back. "I promise."

" _Good_ ," said Crowley, suddenly and vehemently, and flushed when they all looked at him. The demon shuffled his feet uneasily, and glared at Aziraphale's sudden soft smile. "I mean, good. That's good. Just because some idiots are whispering about you, that's no reason to refuse someone you can lo ... trus ... I mean, no reason to pass up some perfectly decent sex!" He nodded fiercely, and flushed. "That's what I meant. Absolutely."

And Aziraphale would tease him for that, just a little, was just going to ... when he noticed that the two angels had suddenly gone a shade of red that far, _far_ outdid the faint flush of colour in his demon's cheeks. The pair of them looked scandalised, and panicky, and ... deeply, ashamedly curious. Almost hungry, through the terror.

Oh. Oh, well. Well indeed.

"Zadkiel," he asked, softly. "Zadkiel, you and Arariel ... You have _had_ sex, haven't you? I mean, you have ... been close to each other, that way, right?" 

Because yes, true and pure love was terrible and powerful and joyous, and he would _always_ rather have it without the other than the other without it, but after a six-thousand-year courtship before getting even _close_ , Aziraphale could absolutely recommend getting some pleasure added in sooner rather than later. It added ... such _mischief_ to a relationship. Such warm comfort. Now that he had it, he couldn't really imagine going without ...

"Um." Arariel wrung his hands, staring at his feet frantically. "Um. We don't ... we're not ... we're not really sure _how_ , and ..." He stopped, looking suddenly deeply unhappy, wholly shamed, and muttered: "And isn't that a sin, and won't we ... Won't we ..."

He stopped, voice less of a whisper than even the little eddies in the dust around his feet, but Aziraphale heard the rest anyway. _Won't we Fall_? Because it wouldn't be the first time an angel had fallen for that, for the pleasures of the flesh and the crimes they engendered, and Arariel thought he wasn't special, hadn't done enough to be forgiven the way perhaps Aziraphale had been ...

"Oh, my dear," Aziraphale whispered, feeling his eyes crinkle in pained sympathy, feeling the rush of sheer compassion in his chest. He reached out to the younger angel before he thought, touching the shaking shoulder gently while Zadkiel glared at him, and lifted that fearful face, looked into damp, frightened eyes.

"Um?" Arariel asked, bewildered and scared. Aziraphale smiled gently.

"I don't believe it's a sin, dear one," he said quietly. Feeling Crowley ghost close to stand behind him, feeling the comforting weight of a hand in the small of his back. "I promise you. To touch someone, to be with someone, to write your love upon them ... that's not a sin. It isn't."

"But ... But ..." So bewildered, so nervous. Still silent, Zadkiel hugged his companion close.

"Will it make you hurt him?" Aziraphale asked, and watched Arariel jerk back in shock, watched him stare in horror. "Will touching Zadkiel make you want to hurt him? To hurt others? If he offered that to you, gave you that ... would you use it to harm him? Would you think it gave you an excuse to harm others, to use them?"

They backed away from him, shaking heads in horror, and Aziraphale could see a flash, then, a hint of doubt that maybe a demon _had_ seduced him from grace, seduced him into darkness. They backed away, suddenly more warriors than a second ago, and harshly answered: " _No!_ Never!"

Aziraphale smiled, sadly, and said: "Then there is no sin, is there? In having that? In doing that? If it cannot cause you to harm, where's the sin?"

And they stopped in hard confusion.

"It's not a dirty thing," Aziraphale continued gently, moving to the stone bench, sitting down so he could look up at them, so he could help them be easy. Well. Easier, anyway. His demon followed close behind. "It's not about flesh and gratification, not really." Crowley snorted at that, but Aziraphale ignored him. Whatever it may sometimes be in the human world, between these two, he knew it would never be about that. Not at the heart of it. "I don't think you would sin with it, Arariel. There's no crime in wanting it, or in having it."

They were wavering, looking now more hopeful than afraid, when suddenly Crowley spoke up. When suddenly his demon spoke, in a voice Aziraphale knew all too well.

"But there _is_ pleasure in it," Crowley purred, leaning close behind Aziraphale, and he jumped as a hand suddenly wrapped itself around his throat. Lightly. Gently. Just a hint. "There is danger," Crowley hummed, wrapping around Aziraphale from behind, smiling darkly as the angel couldn't _quite_ hold in his squeak. "There is ... trust. Power. Love. A certain ... illicit thrill ..."

The two angels flinched a little, looking doubtful again, and worried, and sort of like they were considering leaping to Aziraphale's rescue and running the demon off. Aziraphale almost turned to tell his demon to let go, to warn him that this was too much, too soon, that he would only frighten them ... When Crowley tightened his hand, strong fingers curled around his neck, and another hand crept softly over Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Imagine," Crowley whispered, dark and ruined. "Imagine that trust. Imagine showing that trust, being shown it. Imagine, warriors, being so open. Loving someone so much. Trusting them that deeply that you would put yourselves helpless in their hands. Knowing ... knowing they will never hurt you. Imagine that ..."

They frowned, confused and dazed at the richness in the demon's voice, the slow seduction of it. Aziraphale hummed warningly, and watched his demon hide a smile, felt him squeeze Aziraphale's shoulder lightly in warning and apology. And then ... then the squeezing hand loosened, and crept lower.

"That's what this is," the demon promised, soft and whispering, moving his hand down along Aziraphale's chest, slow and sure. Aziraphale shuddered a little, arched into the touch as agile, clever fingers curled a little in their descent. "That's what touch can show. Can do. Offer trust. Power. Lay them open beneath you, and promise they will never be hurt under your hands ..." The hand in question drifted to a stop, splayed open across Aziraphale's stomach, teasing promise just shy of fulfillment. "Show how much they trust you," Crowley whispered, golden eyes fixed on Aziraphale, ravaged and fierce. "Show how much you are worthy of that trust ..."

"Oh, my dearest," Aziraphale whispered, his pulse speeding beneath Crowley's hand, reaching up to hold his demon's wrist, feeling the matching rush beneath fragile skin, watching serpentine pupils dilate almost to non-existence in heart-broken desire. Oh, this demon ...

Crowley shook himself, a little, pulled his gaze away and looked back at their audience. Their stunned, hypnotised audience, and Aziraphale had to blink a little himself at the darkness in two pairs of eyes, and the fierce, protective hunger ... Oh, his demon _was_ good, wasn't he? So very good.

"Imagine having that," Crowley rasped, staring straight at them, meeting Zadkiel's eyes and forcing the quiet angel to face him, to face ... what he offered. What he revealed. "Imagine having someone trust you that way. Imagine having someone _love_ you that way."

The angel wet his lips, looking over at Arariel, seeing the fear and desire and flayed tenderness in his companion's eyes. Seeing the love. "I don't have to imagine it," he croaked. Very quietly. "I don't have to."

"Then will you run from it?" Aziraphale pressed, gently but firmly, challenge hard and bright. He'd seen so much of what was beautiful in this world be lost to fear. He didn't want to see it again. "Will you run from that because you are afraid? Because idiots who don't know, who've never felt, never touched, would look at you with disgust? Will you run from that, because of _fear_?"

" _No_." And that was Arariel. Fearful, nervous Arariel, who turned to his companion, turned to Zadkiel's stunned and hopeful smile, and promised: "No. I won't run. Not from you, Zadkiel. Not for anything."

Aziraphale smiled at them, as they leaned in to each other, as hands wandered with maybe more courage, more force than they would have before, as they kissed before an audience despite their fear. He smiled at them. But his mind was somewhere else.

His mind was on golden eyes, and warm hands, and a world in turmoil in the dust of an apocalypse, and the quiet, terrified promise of a demon. _I won't run from you. Though Heaven and Hell demand their answers, I won't run._ And he hadn't. Oh, he hadn't. Over forty years of hiding, of running, and his demon had stayed by his side. His demon had never left. And now ...

He sent up a prayer. Just a little prayer. His thanks to Crowley, to his demon, for opening the gates once more. For showing this new and broken world what was possible, what was right. For the Father, who had rewarded the quiet hope of aeons, and granted them leave to love, and show that love, as only humans had before. Or at the very least, the Father who had yet to strike them down for it.

And for these two. This very, very special pair. For reminding him, once again, that there was nowhere that love could not bloom, no taboo that could ever completely forbid it.

And then Crowley leaned in, as Aziraphale smiled around his tears in pride and remembrance and desire, and whispered low and dark in his angel's ear. "I'm glad to see I haven't lost my touch," purred his Crowley, the Serpent of Eden, the First Tempter, with the fruit of knowledge shining between his teeth. Smug and rich and whispering promise over the soft curve of Aziraphale's stomach.

And Aziraphale felt his smile turn into a laugh once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, to explain, this is actually a reworked version of an older fanfic of mine from 2010. The original version was actually a GO-crossover timestamp for a series of SPN/Original stories by two wonderful author's on LJ, who invited me to play in their sandbox a bit. This particular fic was almost purely focused on the GO pair, with only the two other angels crossing from the other universe, so I asked for permission to lightly rework it back as a purely GO fic with two random angels slotted in instead of the originals, mostly for archiving purposes.
> 
> For those curious, my original version of this story is [here on my LJ](http://icarus-chained.livejournal.com/167989.html), and the links to the SPN fanfic universe it was originally part of are also linked at the top of that post. It's worth a look, if I may be so bold? I read back through after reworking this fic, and enjoyed it all over again.


End file.
